"I tell you what, Mr. God gives us an equal chance; but we make ourselves. Why hadn't he gone on with the girl's story? What instinct had stuffed it back into his throat? Why the inexplicable impulse to hurry this rather pathetic derelict on his way? CHAPTER XV Previous to his illness, Spurlock's mind had been tortured by an appalling worry, so that now, in the process of convalescence, it might be compared to a pool which had been violently stirred: there were indications of subsidence, but there were still strange forms swirling on the surface—whims and fancies which in normal times would never have risen above sub-consciousness. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. And then as we went down you’d try to explain. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. Poor Ben was not so fortunate.
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